


Clever Cherishing

by Rosa_Cotton



Category: Peter Pan & Related Fandoms, Peter Pan - J. M. Barrie, Peter and Wendy - J. M. Barrie
Genre: Advice, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Confessions, Drama, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Oblivious, Relationship Advice, Romance, Surprises, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-15 22:13:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29565924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosa_Cotton/pseuds/Rosa_Cotton
Summary: According to John, it is Valentine’s Day, and the boys – from Peter to Michael – seek Mother Wendy’s advice as they plan to spend the day with their sweethearts, and Wendy finds herself alone on this special day. AU.
Relationships: Wendy Darling/Peter Pan (Peter Pan)
Kudos: 9





	Clever Cherishing

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: _Peter Pan_ , all characters, places, and related terms belong to J.M. Barrie.

“I believe today is Valentine’s Day.”

Wendy pauses in the middle of scrubbing the inside of one of her pots. She is cleaning the house today and is in the midst of cleaning her pots and pans and kettle. She has put her hair into two braids and wears a rag tied around her head. John, pacing thoughtfully and nervously about the house for the last few minutes in silence, surprises her when he finally speaks.

“I suppose it is,” she stammers a reply after reflecting for a moment, and moves the pot from her lap to the floor next to her. “What is it?” she asks, noting her brother’s inability to stay still.

“I…I want to do something for Tiger Lily,” the boy confesses, his face turning a rosy red.

Wendy settles herself more comfortably, gives her brother her complete attention, and smiles. “What do you want to do for her?”

“I’m not sure,” John wrings his hands. “She is not like other girls, you know.”

“I do know. She’s different.” Wendy lapses into silence, thinking. “Have you considered flowers?”

“They would not suit her, and flowers would be too…ordinary. She deserves something special,” John says, shaking his head.

“She is unlike me,” Wendy half-muses, half-questions.

“Well, yes,” John states, fearful of having insulted his sister.

But Wendy simply hums to herself and thinks harder, a frown settling on her brow.

After a long silence: “What about a treasure hunt?” The words escape Wendy’s mouth before she has thought the idea through.

She watches as her brother’s thoughtful expression turns to puzzlement, then amazement, and finally excitement.

“That’s it! You are a genius, Wendy!” he exclaims happily. And tossing a “thank you” over his shoulder, he quickly exits to put his budding plan into action.

“Well!” Wendy sighs in relief and laughs lightly. She is quite glad her suggestion was acceptable to John. “Now to finish my work.”

Yet it goes unfinished. In the course of half an hour, Wendy is visited one by one: by the twins, Tootles, Slightly, Nibs, Curly, even the baby of the family, Michael, each who desperately seeks her help. For, having heard from John what today is, they, too, desire to do something for their special girls – or sweethearts.

Amazed and stunned by how her morning is unexpectedly turning out, she graciously tries to help them as best she can, though she cannot draw upon any personal experiences in giving advice. One by one, her ideas of flowers, swings, walks along the beach, stargazing, gifts, and recitation are met with enthusiasm; and the encouraged boys leave, warning they shall likely miss supper.

“Thank you, Mother!” Curly exclaims, her last visitor, on deciding on one of her helpful suggestions. He then bestows on the girl a hug and a kiss on the cheek before racing for his tree.

“You are welcome, Curly…,” Wendy says tiredly to the empty house. She shakes her head slowly, still in disbelief and shock over the whole thing.

“Amazing…my own sweet boys,” she muses out loud. “Never did I expect my duties as a mother to include matters of the heart!” she chuckles. _At least Peter and I can have a quiet evening, and I shall not have to cook as much tonight_. 

The morning is waning, and her tasks are patiently waiting. Bending once more over the pot on the floor, she resumes cleaning it. Becoming engrossed in her work, she absently hums softly.

“Wendy?”

Startled, the girl looks over her shoulder to discover Peter watching her with bemusement and curiosity. She blushes, wondering what a sight she must make, surrounded by pots and pans, with soot and ashes still dusting her face as evidence of her building the fire earlier. She gazes at him for a moment then guesses why he is here. With a sigh of self-suffering, she stands and puts her hands on her hips.

“Well…,” she breaks the lingering silence.

Peter cocks his head to one side. “Well?” he echoes.

“Well, I dare say you are here because you know it is Valentine’s Day, and there is a girl, and you wish to surprise her in some way,” she states.

“How did you know?” Peter blinks, for once looking caught off guard.

Wendy waves away his question, seats herself in her rocker, and waits until Peter sits down in a chair near her. He twiddles his thumbs nervously.

“Now,” she says, “who is the girl?”

“I-I’d rather not say,” Peter confesses, rubbing the back of his head and blushing. “I want to do something special for her.”

“How?” questions Wendy.

“I thought of her and me having supper at the tree house,” Peter answers, a little unsure.

“How sweet!” the girl breathes rapturously.

“You think it is a good idea?” the boy asks. 

“Of course, it is! You can see the sunset from there. The setting sun fills the house with such a golden hue, as though magic is in the air,” Wendy sighs.

A smile of pleasure crosses Peter’s face. “But do you think the house needs something…more?” he worries. “The boys put in a table and two chairs yesterday.”

“Yes, it is a bit plain,” Wendy agrees, remembering how bare and dull it was when the boys had given her a tour when it was all finished. She closes her eyes, thinking. “A carpet would be nice to have,” she mumbles softly to herself, “but we do not have any. Hmm, flowers would brighten the place up…”

Peter, catching her words, looks at her thoughtfully for a moment. “If you think so, Wendy, I will come up with something,” he says with determination. “Thank you.”

Wendy meets his smiling eyes, not completely sure what she is being thanked for, and returns his smile.

“What I really need your help with,” Peter confesses, “is planning the meal.”

Forgetting her confusion, Wendy launches into a lively and lengthy discussion of what dishes he should have, what is simple to make, and what foods he and his sweetheart like. When she finally falls silent, he gives her a cocky grin.

“Oh, the cleverness of me!” he cries joyfully and then flies off to prepare for the evening.

“Of course I did nothing.” As she stares down at her hands clasped neatly in her lap, a strange feeling of sadness comes over her. She laughs humorlessly. She shall have the entire rest of the day all to herself; she has looked forward to such rare occasions, but sees no delight in it now.

“They all have someone…except me,” she whispers as tears well up in her eyes.

She sniffs and tosses her head. She is stronger than this. She shall not mope over her being alone today. She will busy herself with her work. She is happy for the boys.

Nodding to herself, Wendy returns to the waiting pots.

~~~ 

Wendy gazes down the empty table, her eyes pausing where each boy would sit, ending at the head of the table, which belongs to Peter. Her tea has grown cold and remains untouched before her. 

The girl buries her face in her hands. Her afternoon was long and miserable. Unable to bring herself to complete cleaning the house, she had washed up and unbraided her hair and visited her pet wolf. But even that did not lift her spirits. So here she is, alone, with no boys, feeling sorry for herself. Wendy rakes a hand through her hair in frustration, desiring to yell and cry, yet lacking the energy to do either.

“Wendy!”

Yelping in surprise, she jumps to her feet and whirls to discover Peter hovering in the air, a satisfied and excited expression on his face. The girl brings a hand up to her chest.

“Peter, what are you doing here?” Unconsciously she smoothes her hair and nightgown and puts a bright, cheerful smile on her face.

“I want to show you what I did,” he explains.

“Now?” Wendy glances down at her waiting tea. “I was about to make myself some—”

Peter floats to the ground and reaches for her hand. “It can wait. Please, I want you to see the tree house,” the boy beseeches her.

She sighs, defeated, “Very well.”

Hardly have the words left her mouth than Peter pushes her toward her tree and urges her to hurry before disappearing up his own. Wendy quickly comes above ground and is led by Peter through the jungle swiftly to the tree house.

The tree house sits nestled among several branches of a large oak tree. A boardwalk along with railings surrounds the house, serving as a sort of balcony. A dangling rope ladder allows entry up to it.

The two children quickly climb up to the tree house. Peter grandly opens the door and motions Wendy to enter. On doing so, she feels something soft under her feet and looks down in puzzlement. Her eyes widen in astonishment to discover a carpet of fresh green grass and flower petals covering the whole floor.

_How lovely and clever!_ she pleasantly thinks. Looking about the rest of the house as she moves farther inside, she gapes at the marvel of its transformation. Chains of daisies hang from the ceiling in arches. Rainbows dance on the walls. The sunlight spills through the window onto the table in the center of the room. Nets act as a tablecloth, coconut shells for plates on each end of the table. Three candles wink cheerfully at Wendy from their place of honor in the center of the table. And the rest of the table is heaped high with many dishes, steaming hot. The delicious aromas mix with the smell of the grass and perfumed fragrance of the petals as they fill the air. Wendy’s mouth waters as she looks over the tempting foods, noting a lot of them are her favorites, and she vaguely wonders how Peter managed it all, for she has underestimated him.

As she looks over it all once more, Wendy’s flying heart grows heavy. She has never imagined Peter capable of such thoughtfulness and care. His girl will feel like a fairy queen in this place, sharing the meal with him. Everything is perfect, Wendy cannot find any fault. The girl must truly mean a lot to him for Peter to work so hard for this special time with her.

Slowly, Wendy faces Peter, who leans against one of the doorframes, his arms folded; he watches her searchingly, uncertain if he has done right.

“This is wonderful, Peter,” she says softly, giving him a small smile.

A sigh of relief escapes the boy, and his face relaxes. “It is all right?” he asks.

“Nothing is wrong with it,” she sweeps her hand to the room. “Perfect, it is perfect. Your girl will love it.”

At seeing Peter’s joyful beam, Wendy’s heart sinks to her feet. She realizes she envies the special girl with whom he will spend this evening. But it is none of her business really; she simply offered help when it was sought.

With nothing more to say and believing it is time to leave, she walks toward the still open doorway. Her escape route is cut off as Peter’s hand shoots out to rest against the other doorframe, his arm blocking her way. After blinking at the blockade for a second, Wendy turns her blue eyes up to Peter’s hazel ones.

Amused, he asks, “What are you doing?” A smile tugs on the corners of his mouth.

“Leaving,” she answers, “since I do not wish to intrude on your plans. Good evening.”

She is surprised when her way remains impassable. After stealing a glance at Peter’s face, she ducks under his arm. But she barely exits the house when Peter grasps her wrist and pulls her back.

“Please, Peter,” she says with a sigh, trying to remain composed. “I do not feel up to any of your games now. And she will likely come any minute. I really should go.” She keeps her eyes trained on her feet.

A line of emotions crosses swiftly over the boy’s face before his eyes flash, and the expression on his face settles to one of possible fright. He chuckles in an attempt to hide his nervousness and uncertainty.

“Now how can I allow you to leave when I’ll then be forced to eat all by myself?” Peter attempts to ask her lightly; but his voice trembles, and seriousness sparkle in his eyes as he waits anxiously for her response.

It takes a moment for his words to sink in. With agonizing slowness Wendy raises her wide eyes to his, caught between disbelief and hope. Peter returns her look and silently offers her his hand in invitation and with a question in his eyes.

Wendy hesitates only a moment before placing her hand in Peter’s in acceptance and answer. When the two look at each other again, the clouds have blown away, with nothing but sunshine beaming from their faces. Filled with contentment and understanding, the two enter the tree house, and the door shuts.

THE END


End file.
